


I'm missing pieces to this puzzle

by crushing83



Series: Bullets and Blades [10]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is reincarnated, Bard lives many lives, I'm sorry!, M/M, Modern AU, Owen having strange dreams, Owen playing detective, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Thranduil considering a life of crime, a member of Owen's team is an elf, bad things happen to elves, barduil gift exchange, crossover happens a few years before Fast & Furious 6, for ofplanet-earth, from Owen's perspective this time, maybe borrowing another fandom's mythology, playing it fast and loose with Tolkien mythology, poor use of elvish, pre-Furious 6, somehow Thranduil finds him every time, written during extreme stress and writer's block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Owen promised he could wait for Thranduil to tell him his story in his own time, he's started putting together what he knows in the hope that it will provide him some answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm missing pieces to this puzzle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofplanet_earth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/gifts).



> For ofplanet-earth! I wasn't sure what to write... I wanted to try something new, but I kept coming back to the idea of everything in B&B from Owen's perspective. It was a struggle, and I wish I had more time, but I hope you're able to find something in this to enjoy :) <3

With a quiet sigh, Owen kicked the door shut on his way into the flat he and some of his team were using as their home base for the next week. A bare lightbulb cast harsh light over the folding chairs and card table, littered with dossiers and empty coffee cups, as well as the wall of photographs and timetables. Their current project was proceeding as planned, but Owen itched to rush through it; he wanted to go home, to his Thranduil, the life they were building for themselves, and the mystery he was beginning to unravel. 

Movement caught his eye as he shrugged out of his jacket. Vegh was in the hallway, watching him, her hand on her belt. 

"How was the date?"

"It wasn't a date," Owen reminded her. He snorted. "Met Hicks at the bar you scouted. She approached me this time." 

"Good," she said. "Hopefully we won't be here for too long. There's a packet on the secure server from Deckard." 

Owen nodded. He wasn't in the mood to go off on an operation for his brother, but he owed Deckard for pulling him out of a serious scrape when he left his military career behind and the bond of brotherhood was difficult to deny. He knew he'd agree to the mission before hunting down the proffered data. 

"Did you open it?" 

"No," Vegh replied. "It can wait. It might be an excuse to get us to that NGO front in Geneva."

He nodded again. 

"There is some sushi in the fridge. Bought it an hour ago," she said. 

"Thanks, Vegh." 

"I'm ready to head out on surveillance in the morning," she said, continuing on undeterred by Owen's brief replies. "I'll call you at oh-nine-hundred with an update." 

Owen nodded. She raised her hand in a gesture he'd seen Thranduil perform many times; his curiousity warred with his homesickness as she disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Since seeing the two blonds side by side, he often wondered about their collective past. He didn't understand how they grew up. He didn't understand what made them so similar---and so different from everyone around them. 

Thranduil's explanations (similar upbringing, education, and interests) could have been all there was to it, but Owen doubted that was the whole truth. 

After ducking into the galley kitchen to grab the food Vegh had left for him, he returned to the main room where their research was posted. He sat down at the card table, plucked a small roll of rice and fish in between two fingers, popping it into his mouth before he considered all the work in front of him. 

He studied the photographs of Hicks, taken by Ivory that night, when she 'accidentally' bumped into him, all apologies and insults twisted together in an obvious sort of flirtation that could mean nothing coming from someone spending years in intelligence. He looked for tells in the images, something that hints to him he's not wasting his time, and he found it in the way she leaned into him long enough for Vegh to catch it with her camera. With a little smirk, he turned his head and stole another morsel of rice and fish. 

The idea of giving his body to her was an abhorant one. He knew Thranduil told him to get the job done, to do whatever necessary and to return to him for a thorough claiming; the way his elf had spoken on the phone, the low and threatening growl in his voice describing the claiming as much as his words could, made him even more reluctant to push for a physical relationship with Hicks. He considered himself as much Thranduil's as he considered Thranduil to be his---and anyone who knew him well enough would know how out of character that was for him. It didn't bother him, though, instead giving Owen the thrill of a risk that had an infinity of payoffs. 

Thoughts of Thranduil fresh in his mind, he picked up his tablet, punched in the password, and went to the set of documents that occupied many his relatively-work-free evenings.

&&&&&

_Owen put his little hand on the tree trunk, feeling how_ solid _its massive form was beneath his palm. His fingers found purchase in the grooves of the bark. It had to be the biggest, oldest tree he'd ever seen._

_"They are Yavanna's gift to us. They are her labours," a man said, from somewhere behind him, as Owen continued to admire the tree._

_A pale and elegant hand came from over his shoulder to land next to his. A solid body pressed in close, not crowding him but sheltering him. As warmth seeped into him, from the man and the tree, Owen smiled and felt his heart skip a beat._

_"Ivon... she shelters us, provides us with beauty, and in return we do our best to treasure and respect it all," the man said. "We are here to provide balance, to protect Middle Earth as best as we can. Even though we are the People of the Stars, this is our home and we flourish here."_

_The words were strange but they gripped Owen's curiousity. He turned, eager to see the face of the person behind him and to properly meet this stranger; he was disappointed when the visage tilted towards him was blurry and bright. Beyond the light, he could see a circlet made of shining silver, long flaxen hair, strong shoulders covered in a sterling cape, and a body that seemed to be more dancer than warrior despite the sword at his hip._

_"You are... an angel," Owen said, his voice breathy and full of awe._

_The angel's laughter was deep and melodious. "No,_ Meleth nín _, I am one of the Children of Ilúvatar, now, as are you."_

_"You're different from me."_

_"I am a Firstborn," the angel said. "You are not, but you are still cherished by our creator... and always remember: no one loves you more than I ever will."_

&&&&&

_"Deck, wake up!_ Deck!"

_With a groan, the older boy rolled over to the edge of his bunk and glared at Owen. "What?" he hissed. His expression softened a moment later. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Bad dream, O?"_

_"An angel loves me! Me!" Owen whispered, bouncing a little as his feet kicked out in excitement._

_"Huh?"_

_"I saw him! In my dream!" he explained. "He showed me a forest and a tree and told me God loves me! But he loves me more!"_

_Owen didn't understand why Deckard wasn't more excited. It was the best news ever! Too excited to sit still, he wriggled to the edge of the bed. After escaping from the snarl of bedclothes, he hopped down and scurried to the bedroom window. It was dingy, smudged on both sides, but he could still see the stars. He wondered if his angel was up there, in the sky, or if he was living in a forest like the one he'd seen in his dream._

_"O, come back to bed," Deckard whispered. "If he hears you up---"_

_"Trouble," Owen whispered. He sighed. "I know."_

_"Back to bed," Deckard repeated. Owen obeyed, on quiet feet, and when he was under his blankets he heard his brother whispering again. "Never tell anyone about that angel story."_

_He knew Deckard was probably right. He knew the hard time he had in school would only get worse if the other children knew his secret, but it wasn't a story. It was true. He_ knew _it._

_After closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer to his angel that they would meet again._

&&&&&

_He dreamed of his angel repeatedly._

_The main elements in the dream were always the same. The finer details changed, shifting as he grew to understand more of the world and his place within it._

_Other dreams stuck with him, too---of a long lake, children, a dragon... of archery competitions... of painting an image so vivid of a fire and then covering it up with something less alive---but none of them felt as real as those dreams of his angel._

_Growing up, he cherished those angelic dreams. They gave him hope when his home life was in alcohol-soaked tatters. After joining the military, the dreams waned, but they didn't stop completely. When he left the Special Air Service and took up with Deckard, he thought they stopped. In those first few years of building his team and taking on illegal missions, he was sure his angel had abandoned him._

_And then Ivory brought Kendall Monroe to his attention._

_They'd been looking for another long-distance shooter. Adolfson was toying with working freelance---and with his track record in hot-headed decision making, Owen thought that wouldn't bode well for his own plans. He'd tasked his technologically-savvy fixer with finding a possible replacement, and Ivory had given him three possibilities a few days later._

_Kendall Monroe had been the second dossier in the very short stack. As soon as Owen saw his driver's license photograph, he was curious. But it wasn't until Owen looked through all the information Ivory provided, learning the blond man was not at all what he appeared to be, that the desire to learn more about him became almost overwhelming._

_That night, after falling asleep at his desk with Kendall's (false) information spread around him, the dreams resumed._

&&&&&

_His choice to hang back and wait to see if Kendall would approach him was the correct choice to make and he was rewarded for his patience and decision-making._

_A little while after entering the pub, Owen was looking up into Kendall's face and silently hoping the other man couldn't detect how nervous he suddenly felt._

_"And what have I done to catch the attention of such a dangerous man?" Owen asked._

_The blush on the other man's cheeks was... gorgeous. It was like nothing Owen had ever seen before._

_"You walked into the pub," Kendall said._

_His voice was deep and accented and_ so familiar _. Owen had heard it every night he dreamed of the angel, resonating through him when they talked about nature. He didn't understand; the angel had been a dream._

_How could he have dreamed that voice before hearing it?_

&&&

_After hearing the man share his real name, Owen felt his insides flip and warm. He had a feeling that he was the first one to hear that name in a long time, though he didn't know why he felt that way._

_He reached out, touching Thranduil's arm. "Your secret's safe with me," he said. His voice came out too soft, too warm and he wasn't sure how he felt about that; he'd never sounded like that with anyone else, even after physical necessities had been (passionately) managed._

_Seeing Thranduil's cheeks flush, being affected by that sight with a rush of want to be soft and easy, he silently decided his reactions weren't wholly bad._

_"Who are you hiding from?" Owen asked._

_Thranduil's face lost some of its colour as he frowned. "The world," he admitted._

_Wanting to lighten the mood and make the man smile again, Owen let a chuckle slip out, a bit of humour based in some of his own experiences._

_"I can understand that," he said. He drained his glass of its wine and picked up the bottle again to refill it. As he poured some more wine into Thranduil's glass, he added, "I promise you, no one will learn your name from me."_

_Thranduil smirked. "Thank you," he said, his fingers toying with the stem of his wineglass. "It would be a hassle to have to relocate and get a new identity."_

_The familiarity with which Thranduil was looking at him was tempered by his body's stiffness; he moved carefully, cautiously, as if he were concerned about startling Owen. Between Thranduil's behavior and the sense of comfort Owen felt in his presence, Owen felt more unnerved than he'd like to feel in a first meeting with a potential employee. He kept wanting to reach out and touch him; he wanted to be touched in return._

_No one---not even his brother, after all they'd endured together---had ever had such an effect on him._

_He looked into Thranduil's eyes and silently vowed he'd get to the bottom of his feelings, no matter what._

&&&&&

Owen skimmed over the first notes he'd made about his first encounter with Thranduil. His dreams had been fantastic tales and secret comforts before meeting his elf. After crossing paths with Thranduil, they'd taken on new meaning---though he wasn't sure what that meaning was. He would never share his compilation of thoughts and impressions; it was too risky to share with anyone. Deckard would think his capabilities were diminished if he found out what Owen was pondering; Thranduil would probably feel betrayed because Owen promised to wait until Thranduil was ready to share his secrets.

But, he _hated_ not knowing something---especially when it involved him. And he was certain Thranduil's mystery involved him, somehow. 

He looked over the accounts he'd written of old dreams, of his angel, and then of the images he'd seen in his mind since meeting Thranduil. He skimmed the descriptions of Thranduil's fighting styles that he'd added and smiled, remembering the first time he saw Thranduil wielding his swords. He'd never seen such smooth certainty of movement before; Thranduil had been enchanting as he dipped and swayed and turned. His accounts spoke of his skill as well as his grace. 

Some of their conversation in the shooting range, the bits about Thranduil's father, had found its way to his notes when Owen started recording the truths Thranduil shared with him. There wasn't much, because Thranduil didn't share much with him; but Owen had a clear picture of Thranduil's father in his mind as a tough, battle-scarred man who'd had high expectations for his son. At first, he suspected Thranduil had come from a religious cult, but the more he thought about Thranduil's past, the more he was starting to believe he came from some sort of secret society of warriors. Thranduil was too well-practiced with a sword and with a bow to have escaped a spiritual retreat. He had a language that he shared with Tauriel and Vegh that felt old and full of variety; it was more than a few words designed to charm a gullible crowd, and it felt like it had more history than any language he'd ever heard before. 

He'd asked a weapons collector he knew if there were any European---possibly Scandinavian---groups like that, but his acquaintance had only provided the names of a couple secret societies with their roots in Asia. He still saved that information, though, considering it peripherally relevant, and had added to it in the last few weeks. Being in Japan had put him in touch with another source, someone who had more information about one of those groups and was discrete enough in his sharing of such information. 

A secret group in the Middle East, who were known in rumours by the name _Avud Nandor_ , seemed worth further investigation. He had much better contacts in that area of the world; as soon as they had a job there, he would reach out to some of those contacts. If they could shed light on other groups, perhaps the one to which Thranduil had belonged, they would be another step closer to understanding his partner. 

_Elf_

The word was typed at the bottom of his recounting of that first night of swordplay. After seeing it in his notes, Owen smiled and let memories of their first tumble into bed surface in his mind; Thranduil had been unrestrained and his reactions to Owen's touch had been intoxicating. One night would never have been enough and Owen was grateful every day they were together that Thranduil had been brave enough not to run from whatever had scared him that first night.

&&&&&

_The mood had gone from playful to intense to heavy. It was completely unplanned, but he_ understood _it in a way that surpassed words. As if it were a gut instinct, something expected after what they'd shared. The idea of kicking Thranduil out of bed died when assuring him he wasn't a conquest; the need to pull him close and protect him was born when Thranduil trembled and sagged into the mattress._

_After a kiss to the top of Thranduil's head, Owen gave into the impulse to stroke his fingers along the elegant sweep of Thranduil's spine. He felt Thranduil shiver; he smiled up to the ceiling and closed his eyes._

_"If I stay much longer, I might fall asleep," Thranduil whispered._

_"Stay," Owen replied. "We'll have a coffee in the morning instead of wine tonight."_

_Thranduil's unsteady hand brushed against his stomach. Ignoring the urge to ask questions, to investigate, Owen covered those shaking fingers with his own hand. He squeezed and took pleasure in the way Thranduil's tremors diminished._

_After turning off the lights, Owen shifted his weight until he was comfortable---as right as the weight of Thranduil felt, it was still something new and unsettling---and then went through the mental exercises he used to find calm and quiet inside his head. Just as he was approaching the mental state that could lead to sleep, he heard Thranduil sniff once, and then twice._

_Thranduil rolled onto his other side, away from Owen, and sniffed again. Owen frowned, his mind whirring to piece together what Thranduil was considering. Did he regret their night together? Did he have someone else in his life? Did he find sex shameful? Owen had no answers, but the longer Thranduil spent alone with his thoughts, the longer Owen worried about him._

_First, Owen turned onto his side, facing Thranduil. He rubbed his face against his pillow and breathed deeply, feigning sleep as he moved closer to his goal. He waited, listening to Thranduil as he paused, and after a few minutes he inched closer to his target._

_When he wrapped an arm around Thranduil's waist, the body under his touch stiffened for a second before pressing back into the offered embrace. Thranduil sniffled again, shuffling around, but eventually his hand came up and settled on Owen's arm._

_That night, when Owen finally dreamed, he was transported to the forest he dreamed about as a child, to the tree where he and his angel first met._

&&&

_"What do you mean, he's got no other alias?" Owen barked into his phone._

_He stared out at the shooting range where he knew Thranduil was spending his evening, listening to Ivory hesitate. He regretted his tone, slightly, but he found it hard to believe that Ivory couldn't discover who Thranduil had been before Kendall Monroe._

_"There has to be something," he said in a calmer tone._

_Ivory sighed. "I'm trying, Shaw. Really. He just appears, out of nowhere. There's no sign anything was transferred to his name---"_

_"Then there must be another identity he uses to mask financial activities," Owen interjected. He sighed. He'd hoped Ivory would find more information, something Owen could use to explain the reaction Thranduil had tried to hide from him in the dark. "Send me the results of your searches, and I'll see if I can dig anything else up."_

_"Sure. I'll put it in my drive on the secure server," Ivory said, his voice still low and slow, full of the disappointment he felt for not succeeding after Owen set him a task. "I'll keep an eye out, but I'll focus on the next job for now."_

_Owen nodded, even though Ivory couldn't see it. "Thanks," he said. "I'll call when I'm on my way to the safehouse."_

_"See you in a few hours," Ivory said before he ended the call._

_After tossing his phone into the car's cupholder, Owen unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. The area around the shooting range was quiet. Other clients had gone home, but Owen knew Thranduil would still be there---from both his research and personal experience. He hadn't been able to shake Thranduil from his thoughts all day; he hoped a quick visit would be able to help him turn his thoughts from their time together so he could focus on the job at hand. There was important information Deckard needed, he'd be doing the job himself if anyone could stand to work with him (or if it was a one-person job), and Owen hated disappointing his older brother. A job poorly done was another thing that Owen hated. He was determined to do his best to move past Thranduil's insertion into his life so he could turn his attention to covert thievery._

_After entering the shooting range, Owen smiled as he heard Thranduil's voice. He stepped into the gallery. Thranduil was standing in front of one of the targets, at a reasonable distance; his quiver of arrows was being emptied quickly and those arrows that had been fired were all circling the centre of the target he'd chosen. Before and after every shot, Thranduil would pause, mutter, and shake his head._

_Owen didn't understand the words he was saying. They weren't being spoken in a language Owen could recognise._

_Thranduil was_ such _a mystery._

_"I don't know that language," he said, calling out to the other man._

_Thranduil yelped. The arrow he'd been drawing back was quickly released. It hit the dead centre of the target, in the middle of the circle he'd drawn. He turned and cursed in his language---it had to be a curse, Owen thought, judging by the tone behind the words---before switching to English and yelling some more._

_"I've never seen you miss a shot," Owen reasoned, protesting Thranduil's belief that he could have been shot. He smiled. "Permission to approach?"_

_When Thranduil set down his bow and nodded, Owen walked across the gallery. He reached out, putting his hands on Thranduil's hips, and stole a quick kiss from Thranduil's lips._

_"Been thinking about you all day," Owen admitted._

_Thranduil's worried expression melted into a small smile. Owen felt like he'd won something when Thranduil put his hands on Owen's shoulders, squeezing lightly before relaxing against him._

_"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Owen asked, his voice a whisper. He kissed Thranduil again, humming happily when Thranduil responded, even going so far as to chase Owen for another kiss when that one ended. When they finally separated, he grinned. "I was distracted today. Couldn't get the image of you in my bed out of my mind."_

_"I have been thinking of you, also," Thranduil admitted, looking shy._

_Owen smirked. "Good."_

_Their next kiss was much more passionate, resulting in entangled limbs, flushed faces, and swollen lips._

_They talked about Thranduil being a mystery Owen was prepared to solve, about going for a drive, and about Owen's trip before the previous night came up in conversation at Owen's insistence. When Owen pushed the issue, Thranduil's relaxed posture turned tense, and Owen did his best to put Thranduil's mind at ease._

_"Did you think it would bother me?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm as he held Thranduil in his arms. "It would if it's something I did," he added._

_"You did nothing wrong," Thranduil whispered._

_Owen nodded. He realised from his comportment that Thranduil would put distance between them if he continued forcing the subject, so he did what he could to fix the situation. "Alright," he said, smiling a little. "Then, you'll tell me when you're ready."_

_He nearly laughed at Thranduil's expression of surprise. "I can be patient," he reminded Thranduil, with another kiss._

_After a few more words and kisses, Thranduil yielded to go for a drive. Owen grinned and stayed close to Thranduil as he started to gather up his equipment from the counter where he'd left his things at Owen's arrival. When he was dismissed to fetch the arrows, he kissed Thranduil's cheek and let his hands linger over Thranduil's waist, unwilling to be parted from him._

_Owen pulled the arrows free from the targets. Each was made of wood, except for the arrowheads, which were made of a metal he didn't recognise by sight, and the fletching, which seemed to be made of feathers and some sort of bristle. They weren't machined; Owen could tell that they were made by hand by their (very) slight imperfections._

_"These are handmade," he said, hoping to learn where Thranduil purchased them. But, when Owen received nothing but a nod as a reply, he realised that they probably weren't purchased. "You made them?"_

_"Yes," Thranduil replied._

_"You made the bow, too, didn't you?" Owen asked, putting together the clues in front of him._

_"Yes."_

_"I didn't know you could do that."_

_Thranduil smirked. "Wasn't in your intel package?" he said, teasing Owen. "Well, now you can add that in."_

_Owen came back to the counter, setting the arrows down next to Thranduil's gear bag. Thranduil was busy removing his quiver, but when he was free of the case, he started putting the arrows into it. Owen used the time wisely, picking up Thraduil's bow to inspect it more closely._

_"So you... took the time to carve..." Owen trailed his fingers over the images. "An elk and a dragon." He smiled. "I guess you made the design up yourself, too?"_

_"Of course," Thranduil replied._

_The dragon reminded him of one he'd seen in some of his dreams---some of the recurring ones in which the angel never appeared. It was eerie, how close in appearance they seemed to be. The spikes around the crown of the head, the long, spiked tail... the sinister angles of the snout. It was all too familiar._

_The elk was familiar, too, though Owen had no idea why. Its broad head wasn't like the head of any elk he'd seen, too primitive and large, its antlers more massive than any example in wildlife he'd ever seen. He wondered if he'd seen the same art that Thranduil had used as reference for his carving._

_"What does it mean?" Owen asked._

_Thranduil shrugged. "Bits and pieces from history," he said. "Legends, I guess you'd call them."_

_"This took time and skill," Owen commented. "You did a remarkable job."_

_He turned his focus from the elk and returned it to the dragon. It was so much like the one from his dreams, and as he continued to compare it to the one he'd imagined, he felt himself get lost in those memories. He felt his eyes unfocus, as pictures from his dreams drifted to the front of his thoughts._

_Even after Thranduil caught his attention again, those images lingered behind his eyes._

&&&&&

Specific interactions were written in his notes, as were specific dreams. After noticing the dragon on Thranduil's bow, those things were described in much more detail. Owen hated recording it all, feeling like he was betraying the promise he'd made to Thranduil, but his curiousity was growing too strong to be placated or denied.

He believed in science and scorned religion. He could tell the difference between reality and fantasy. Magic did not exist; hard work and careful planning (not wishing and hoping) gave birth to success. 

And yet, the idea that his relationship with Thranduil was tied to his dreams (even the ones about the dragon) was a thought he had difficulty dismissing as ridiculous. 

The dragon was an almost-permanent fixture in his dreams. He saw it destroying a great city before turning its attention to a fortress built into a mountain. He saw it flying from the mountain and towards the little town on the lake, where he was watching from behind bars. He had no idea why he was locked away---perhaps he was a less-skilled criminal in his dream world---but he saw himself escaping and rescuing people from the flames before searching out a bow and arrow and heading to the highest point in the community. 

Every time the dragon appeared in his dreams, he committed the images to his memory and jotted them down in his files when he had time. He didn't know why the dragon continued to appear in his head, he didn't understand why the dragon was so important; but its increase in frequency of appearance was directly connected to Thranduil's continued presence in Owen's life. He had no evidence to prove it, he simply believed it in his heart. 

Other images came to him, too, as he slept. Two trees that glowed. Archery competitions. A fire blazing in a forge, taking the building down around it. Wings that were more energy than feathers. People with pointed ears like Thranduil's, bowing to him. Paintings of the sea that turned into battles between large, sailed ships the more he dreamed of them. War fought with swords and shields. Stars and space, the incredible creation of planets out of nothing. He had no reason to believe they held any importance for him, to the mystery he was sure he was unravelling, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were all linked to him, to Thranduil, and to the angel that sometimes visited him when he slept. 

It was impossible. It was ridiculous. 

But he couldn't dismiss the idea that they were all pieces of a puzzle he needed to solve so he could _finally_ understand what was happening around him.

&&&&&

_Owen woke up, heart pounding in his chest as images of his dream faded away from his mind's eye. He'd seen long silver blades clashing, sparks flying, as two large figures moved impossibly fast around each other. It had been a terrifying fight, and he'd been forced to stay on the sidelines for unknown reasons. Every time he tried to stand and join in the battle, something pulled him back and refused to let go. None of the fighters had been Thranduil---he hadn't even been sure that they were human, as strange as that sounded---but the confrontation still left him feeling panicked and off-balanced._

_As he regained control of his senses, he heard Klaus moving around in the room next to his. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. It must be time to get to work, to resume surveillance. Klaus wanted at least one more day; he was convinced the person they were currently watching had a secret and he wanted to discover it before they made their decision on who would be a better source of information. Owen agreed with him. He just didn't like that their plan was keeping him away from Thranduil._

_On impulse, he reached out for his phone. A moment later, he was listening to the phone ring as he waited for Thranduil to answer._

_When he did, he heard Thranduil laughing. The sound was a balm for his frayed nerves._

_"There's a wonderful sound," Owen said. "Guess you don't miss me enough yet."_

_Thranduil made a pleased sound before speaking. "I miss you plenty. How are you? When are you coming back?"_

_Owen leaned back down against his pillows and relaxed his body. "In a day or two, probably," he replied._

_"And?"_

_"You were right. She's our girl. I even think she can be tempted without the enticements we'd previously discussed," he said vaguely, wanting to wait until he and Thranduil were face to face to share detailed information. "I'll talk with you about it when I return."_

_"I can't wait," Thranduil replied. "For that... and other pursuits."_

_Owen smirked. Then, he chuckled. "I'm looking forward to it, too, elf." He paused, stretching his limbs away from his body as he woke up more. "What have you been up to?"_

_"Mostly my classes," Thranduil said after a brief pause. "A friend stopped by to visit. She's an archer, too. She's been helping me teach, when we aren't catching up."_

_"That's nice," Owen commented. "That explains the laughter."_

_"We were just talking about better days. I mean, before, when we weren't in hiding. Meeting you made these days better, I didn't mean---"_

_Even though he wasn't sure what he thought about Thranduil having a visitor, when Thranduil spent so much time telling Owen that he was alone in the world, he enjoyed the sound of Thranduil rambling and he loved the sentiment behind Thranduil's words._

_"Relax, Thran," he said on a chuckle. "I understood."_

_"Oh."_

_"I made your days better, hmm?" he asked quietly._

_"Yes, definitely... immeasureably," Thranduil murmured._

_Own made a quiet, pleased sound, a deep hum that got stuck in his throat. "Good. Same goes for me, in case you're curious."_

_"I... good," Thranduil said, his voice still soft and quiet. "Very good. If you were here... I'd... well, I'd show my appreciation."_

_"Oh, would you?" Owen purred. "I am going to spend some time tonight imagining that."_

_The noise Thranduil made in response shot straight to his cock. It was a mix between a moan and a whimper, with a little hitch in the middle. It was desire and hope and incredibly sexy. Owen groaned. Then, he growled. "I wish I was recording this call so I could play that over and over," he said._

_"Come home, and try to make me make it again," Thranduil purred._

_Owen exhaled slowly. "As soon as I can, love. I promise. We're almost done here," he assured Thranduil._

_"Good."_

_"You two are being safe?" Owen asked. "You make it sound like she's hiding, too... so---"_

_"We're fine."_

_After a cluck of his tongue, Owen said, "Good. If that changes, go to my place. If either of you suspect something is wrong---"_

_"Owen..."_

_"I won't take any risks with your safety, Thran. Promise me," Owen insisted._

_"I will. I mean, I promise."_

_"Good. And, don't make your friend feel like she she has to run off before I return," Owen added, aware that he probably sounded jealous and suspicious but not entirely caring about his intentions or perception. "I'd like to meet her, if you don't mind."_

_"I don't mind," Thranduil said honestly._

_"Alright. I better get moving. We're trying to wrap things up here, but Klaus has concerns he wants to investigate," he said quietly. "Just... be careful, stay alert, and I'll be home as soon as I can."_

_"You, too," Thranduil whispered. "Owen, please. I want you back here safe, in one piece."_

_"I will do my best, Thran."_

_"Your best is very good," Thranduil said, purring a little around his words._

_Owen grinned. "I can't wait to see you."_

_"I can't wait to see you, either," Thranduil replied, his voice dropping into a whisper. "Hurry home, and I'll make that noise for you. Naked. With you hopefully naked as well."_

_Still grinning, Owen got out of bed and picked up some clothes out of his duffel bag. "I think that can be arranged, love. I'll see you soon."_

_"Good."_

_Owen ended the call with a quick good-bye, a smile still on his face. He continued to smile, long after he left the sanctuary of his room, prompting several look looks form Klaus who didn't understand how his nap could lighten his mood when surveillance usually annoyed Owen and made him restless._

_The dream of battle didn't seem so bad after Thranduil's light teasing and the promise of physical affection._

&&&&&

_He'd hurried through the rest of the surveillance, rushing Klaus and Ivory in his pursuit, so he could return to Thranduil's side. The idea of Thranduil spending time with someone who may or may not hold Thranduil's safety as a priority did not sit well with him. He wanted to meet this person, make sure they were good enough to spend time with Thranduil; he wanted to see Thranduil, make sure the man was alive and whole and well._

_After stopping by Thranduil's flat and finding it empty, he decided to go to the shooting range. There weren't many places Thranduil would go; the shooting range was his best bet._

_As soon as he picked the lock and stepped inside, he could hear metal clashing against metal and the grunts of physical exertion. Curious---and a little concerned---he hurried to the gallery. He stopped in the doorway and had to grip its frame; the sight in front of him was incredible. Thranduil and a red-haired woman were sparring, swinging blades around as they leapt at each other. Owen had seen Thranduil move in a number of amazing ways, but they were only a fraction of the sight in front of him. He was quick and forceful and moving in ways that should not be physically possible. Owen bit back a groan as he watched; he tried to turn his focus to Thranduil's friend, but it was constantly drawn back to Thranduil as their fight continued._

_The redhead seemed surprised by him. She faltered and Thranduil took advantage of the moment. She tumbled down and struggled to get up; Thranduil approached her, after waving to Owen, and helped her stand._

_Owen studied her as they walked towards him. She moved as smoothly as Thranduil did, both of them incredibly graceful. She watched him as he watched her---suspiciously, curiously---but she didn't show any signs of aggitation or aggression._

_When Thranduil was close enough, Owen tugged him close. Kissing him was more like coming home than getting off the plane was._

_"I'm glad you came," Thranduil whispered._

_"Ivory and Klaus weren't nearly as nice company as you are," Owen replied. "I'd apologise for intruding, but..."_

_"You're curious. And suspicious."_

_Owen nodded. "Can you blame me?"_

_Thranduil shook his head. Owen rubbed his back in a few slow strokes, patting Thranduil's flank before he stilled his hand._

_"I wasn't trying to keep her from you," Thranduil said. "If that's your concern. I didn't know she was still alive," he continued in a quiet voice. He reached up and touched Owen's jaw. "I was surprised when I saw her. I... I wasn't ready for her to disappear yet. I know how this looks, Owen. But, it wasn't my intention to be deceptive."_

_He nodded._

_They'd been about to continue talking, Thranduil had been about to introduce his friend, but her surprised exclamation and wide-eyed stare was too much to ignore._

__"Elo!" _she exclaimed, the word meaning nothing to Owen. She bowed her head and said more words he didn't understand._ "Gwannas lû and." __

_Thranduil sighed. "That is not her name."_

_The woman looked at Thranduil. "I... I am sorry, but you did not prepare me adequately," she said before she turned back to look at Owen. Owen wondered what she meant but didn't have time to ask her before she spoke again. "I wasn't expecting... well, you remind me of someone. You can call me Tori," she said, extending her hand for a shake._

_Owen smiled, but he knew the expression wasn't his best lie. "That's not your real name, though," he said. Thranduil tried to stop him, but Owen pushed on with another question. "Are you putting Thran in danger by being here?"_

_"I took every precaution traveling here," she said. "I wasn't going to stay, but... I have a hard time going against his wishes."_

_Thranduil snorted._

_"I disobey once---"_

_"At least three times," Thranduil muttered._

_"---and he never lets me forget it," she said to Owen. Tauriel shifted her weight. "If you want me to leave, I understand. Trust is hard to earn and---" she stopped and inhaled sharply. "My name is Tauriel, but like Thranduil, I would prefer to keep it a secret."_

_Owen nodded. "Owen Shaw," he replied, finally extending his hand. She accepted the gesture. Thranduil remained tense as his side but didn't interrupt him. "How long have you known Thran?"_

_"His family adopted me when my parents died," she said quietly. "I worked for him for a few years before I broke protocol and was dismissed."_

_"Why?"_

_"I was in love with someone. I was not thinking clearly."_

_"Neither was I," Thranduil said. "Tauriel---"_

_"He needs to understand," the redhead said firmly, eyes never leaving Owen's face. "I am loyal to Thranduil. And that would mean I am loyal to you, too," she added. "Thranduil is my kin. One of the very few left in this world. I will_ never _betray him."_

_"Is anyone after you?" Owen asked._

_"No one in particular at the moment," she replied. "But I would not like to cross paths with someone who would find me valuable."_

_"Information?"_

_"Yes. To start."_

_Owen studied her. He could understand the need to stay free; he felt that often himself. She seemed to be honest with him, too, and since he couldn't detect too many signs of deception---no more than Thranduil displayed on a regular basis---he decided to give Tauriel a chance._

_"If you're a friend of Thran's, I look forward to getting to know you," Owen said quietly. He patted Thranduil's hip and smiled. "So... did someone win, or was it another of your practice exercises?"_

&&&

__Bard... Bard. Bard. Bard. __

_The name had been shouted at him in his dreams. He'd never shared it with anyone---not even Thranduil. How had he known that name? How could that be the name of Thranduil's ex-lover if it were the name in some of his strange dreams?_

_Owen did not wrap his mind around what was happening. Hearing the name after seeing evidence of how much Thranduil and Tauriel had cared for him (in different ways) was a shock to his system that he couldn't explain. But it had shocked him, resonating through his mind and body, and he'd escaped their sharp eyes to try and make sense of it._

_He paced around the bedroom, piecing together what he believed he knew of Bard. Thranduil loved him; he'd been worthy of Thranduil's love. He'd been a father; he'd had people who depended upon him for their survival. He operated a compound or organisation similar to the one Thranduil had been in charge of after his father died and until he went into hiding. Another cult? Perhaps a secret society, instead of anything religious._

_If he pushed himself to place the name, he could see images of the broken city from his dreams, long after the dragon destroyed everything, full of people in varying states of dress and injury. Everyone had soot and blood on their faces. They were looking to him, but he was looking for someone else._

_He could see Thranduil, standing with Tauriel, with Bain and two young girls at her side. But, he didn't remember dreaming that before. The scene changed as he pushed his mind to recall the dreams he'd been having._

__"Mê l'ovannen, _Bard the Dragonslayer," Thranduil said in his mind, formally but pleasantly. He smiled and tipped his head towards Owen before guiding him through large gates and into a cavernous hall._

_Owen groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes._

_He wandered over to the bed and sat down by the bedside table. After sighing, he rested his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. Nothing made sense, yet everything felt_ right _. He didn't think he could explain it in any way that would make sense to anyone else._

_When Thranduil joined him, he heard the other man sigh and close the door before he came closer. Owen didn't look up as Thranduil climbed onto the bed behind him, but he leaned back in Thranduil's embrace when his arms came up and hugged him._

_"There's been something on the tip of my tongue for so long," Owen muttered. "I can't put it together. All I know for sure is that something's missing, but I don't know what it is."_

_Thranduil kissed his shoulder. "How can I help?" he asked quietly._

_"You're doing it, love," Owen murmured._

_He pressed another kiss to his skin, just above his shirt collar. "It will come," the elf whispered. "When the time is right, it will come."_

_Owen thought he sounded awfully sure of himself, of a situation he knew very little about, but he didn't ask the questions he wanted to ask. Instead, he leaned back into the warmth of Thranduil's body and took comfort in Thranduil's presence._

&&&&&

Bard was a mystery. Owen wished he had more information, apart from the few notes he was able to add to his files. His name was added as a tag to numerous descriptions of dreams, to quick accountings of conversations he had with Thranduil where bits of information were shared to gain insight to the parts of Thranduil's past he was willing to share.

Thranduil was still a mystery, too. Owen knew he wasn't lying---he was adept at distinguishing between lies and the truth---but he knew there was so much Thranduil wasn't telling him. He tried to be patient, but over the months they spent together, the notes Owen gathered grew in his secret files. 

The secret language Thranduil spoke with Tauriel (and then with Vegh) was eventually added to his files as best as Owen could record it. Some of the words, he remembered from dreams with his angel---and that was something he wasn't entirely sure how to explain, but Thranduil said _exactly_ the same phrases as the figure in his dreams so he couldn't dismiss the link between the two realms---and others he heard Thranduil and Tauriel (and Vegh) share, and all the ones he could remember and guess at spelling were saved on another document in his tablet. 

_May loav-anen_  
Melon nin  
Melleth nin  
Dey ath  
Hir voo-in  
Si verre 

A secret society would have a secret language. Children frequently made up their own ways to communicate with friends that couldn't be easily deciphered by others. The military had their own terms, their own codes. Owen found it easy to believe that Thranduil and his people could have formed their own language; they could have easily developed a language, especially if they were around for more than two generations. 

Owen sighed. He tried searching for some of the words---in all sorts of various spellings. Nothing really grabbed his attention in the results. 

Turning (sliding) the page, he saw the pictures Deckard had sent him. Thranduil's daughter, Bellasiel, in the middle of the group---although they hadn't known it was her when they received the images. Deckard definitely knew more about them than he did; he thought about asking his older brother, but he wasn't sure he'd appreciate the spin Deckard would put on their group. 

Underneath the pictures, Owen had written _Deck and Mr. Nobody. Connected through this group?_

He doubted it, but he kept the note there. Deckard wasn't like Thranduil and Tauriel and Vegh. Deckard didn't have their grace. Deckard definitely didn't have their skill with certain weapons, though he was no slouch. Owen had been around Thranduil enough to know Deckard hadn't lived the way Thranduil had, not even for a few months. Deckard was a soldier, trained for Queen and Country before striking out on his own for more lucrative opportunities; Thranduil was a leader, judging by the way both Tauriel and Vegh looked to him, and he could fight but he saw strength in protection and avoiding conflict, too. 

Still, Deckard knew things about Thranduil's family and friends. And whatever those things were, they'd done some sort of damage to Deckard. 

Owen sighed. He hoped some day Thranduil would be able to tell him what those things were.

&&&&&

_Owen kept his guard up until long after Deckard disappeared into the shadows. He waited, watched, and when he was sure they were alone again he got into his seat behind the wheel of his car._

__"You think this'll be the end? Do you think what they did to me will be the end of it? They wanted a group of soldiers. A hunting party. For all of you. I was the trial run. Too strong-willed. They're getting better. Picking better soldiers." __

_Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths as he drove around the city, Owen couldn't stop an echo of Deckard's words from replaying in his mind. He was confused. It sounded like Deckard had been involved in some sort of experiment. It sounded like some sort of training ground._

__"You don't know what they did to me because of him!"

_Deckard had sounded so wrecked and haunted at one point, that Owen's heart seemed to tighten in his chest. He wanted to take Deckard somewhere, comfort him, find out what had happened; it never would have happened, though, because Deckard would have deflected and sassed and drank his way through the conversation._

__"He'll turn on you in a heartbeat to save his kind."

_Owen clenched his hands around the steering wheel and gear shift. Thranduil wouldn't turn on him. He knew Thranduil loved him. He knew they shared something profound. He could feel it when they were close; he could feel it there, in the car as he drove them to his secret hideaway._

_But those words still rattled him. Deckard believed Thranduil would turn on Owen, if it was necessary to do so in the course saving others like him._

_While he believed Thranduil would do almost anything to protect those he cared about, Owen didn't believe that Thranduil would sacrifice him to achieve that goal. At worst, Thranduil would leave him behind to hare off on some half-baked mission with Tauriel._

_Deckard was wrong. Owen knew it in his heart. He knew it in his mind._

_When he finally drove them into the first floor of the building he (or an alias of his) owned, he parked in the right bay and turned to look at Thranduil. He smiled and gestured to the elevator._

_"Go on up, love," he murmured. "I'm gonna check the security feeds. Make sure Deck isn't lurking around outside."_

_Thranduil's silver eyes widened. "Do you think... he followed us? You drove for---"_

_"I couldn't see him following us," Owen interrupted. He reached out and brushed his fingers along Thranduil's jaw. He smiled at the way Thranduil leaned into the contact. "I'll be up as soon as I'm sure."_

_Nodding, Thranduil eased out of the vehicle and walked to the elevator. Owen followed him, though he stopped at a series of cupboards he'd installed to hide his security monitors while Thranduil ascended to the living area of the building._

_He watched the monitors, all the while Deckard's words continued to echo in his mind._

_What would an experiment entail? he wondered. Tauriel had made it sound like biological or genetic experimentation. He had no idea what made Thranduil and his family so different, but perhaps they had a predisposition for an immunity to diseases, both natural and man-made, or super-keen senses that were a genetically dominant trait. Either one of those anomalies would be valuable in soldiers; he could understand that military groups would be interested in seeing if those traits were transferable._

_Could they have tried to put those genetic traits in Deckard? Would they be visible in his blood, in his genetic code?_

_It should have sounded ridiculous. (It did sound a little like a plot to a B-grade sci-fi movie.)_

_But, he couldn't shake the notion that he was on the right track._

_And he couldn't forget that Thranduil's knife had Deckard's blood on it._

&&&&&

_Owen looked up from his work to see Thranduil and Vegh working at one of the tables made out of packing crates. They were quietly murmuring, back and forth, sometimes using the language Owen didn't understand._

_Not wanting to interrupt them, Owen pretended to work on the escape routes---both to the safehouse and to the docks---while glancing up from time to time to observe them._

_Thranduil's relationship with Vegh was different than the one he had with Tauriel, even though Tauriel had taken Vegh's job within their organisation. With Tauriel, there was something almost paternal in the way Thranduil interacted with her. With Vegh, there was something... different. At first, Owen thought it was the respect of employer and employee; but they did not behave the way Vegh and Owen did when they interacted. They shared something profound, though Owen had no way of knowing what it could be._

_At first, he'd assumed it was something romantic in nature, but even with Owen's lack of experience in that area, he didn't think that was it. Perhaps a friendship, then, he decided silently, as he watched the two of them interact, or maybe they'd endured a difficult event together. The trust Thranduil had with her was unwavering; Owen could tell that, even though they'd only been training and planning so far._

_As soon as he could, he would take them on a mission, just them, and evaluate them further._

_In the meantime, he would observe and try to learn more about Thranduil from his interactions with Vegh._

&&&&&

Interactions with Vegh had been just as fruitful (if not more) as those with Tauriel, Owen decided as he looked over his most recent notes. He'd learned a bit more about Thranduil's past---including the fact that he had a daughter as well as a son (and apparently they were old enough to take care of themselves and had been for some time, which was something Owen often pondered)---during his interactions with Vegh on the train away from Buenos Aires.

Once, he'd tried searching for Bellasiel Orophersson, curious to see if her given name was listed anywhere. It hadn't been. He wasn't surprised. If she was even half as skilled at Thranduil was at hiding identities, she'd be very difficult to find. Vegh seemed hopeful she could find Thranduil's daughter, though, and his curiosity waged war with his joy and hope for Thranduil. 

How old was Thranduil? Were they his biological children, or adopted wards, in the way that Tauriel had been? 

He had so many questions, and so few answers. 

"Shaw." 

Quickly closing the case over the front of his tablet, Owen looked up. Klaus came into the room, rather light-footed for someone of his stature, and made a beeline for the kitchen. 

"Surveillance?" Owen inquired. 

"Ivory's ready to be relieved," Klaus said. He returned to the main room with what looked like some sort of fruit juice in a large bottle. "Anything I can do for you before I go?"

"No. Just... keep me posted---and be attentive. She's clever." 

Klaus nodded. Moments later, he was gathering a sweater and a duffel bag while slipping into his sneakers. With a little wave, he was gone, through the main door of their temporary home. 

Before Owen could return to the questions and anecdotes in his tablet, his phone started to ring. Thranduil's name flashed across the display; Owen wasted no time in snatching it up and answering it. 

"Thran?" 

"Owen! Did I wake you? I know the time difference, but--" Thranduil's voice came through quite clearly, as if it were close in physical space to his own. His voice was a little higher than usual, his words were a little faster than usual. "I... oh, this is ridiculous. Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping. Talk to me," Owen said, making sure to keep his voice quiet and calm. 

"I took a few days to myself. I... I caught up on some personal matters before returning to my flat," he said. "When I went to the bar to get my mail... I am sure it is nothing, but the bartender mentioned someone stopping by to see if they knew me. Or Kendall. That was the name they asked after. I... do not like it. Is it alright if I stay at your place until you return?"

"Absolutely, yes. There's enough food still in the freezer, so just... get there and stay there." 

Thranduil exhaled slowly. It sounded as if he were calming down enough to finally handle whatever was happening in his neck of the woods. Owen hated that he had at least another day of work before he could return. He was itching to drop everything and charter a plane and fly home so he could protect Thranduil and find out who had been looking for him. 

"You... are sure?" 

"Yes, love," Owen murmured. "I want you to text me when you get there. With something I'd recognise as coming from only you. Just in case---just to put my mind at ease." 

"I... alright." 

"We'll get to the bottom of this as soon as I'm home," Owen promised. "I want you to look out for yourself and be safe. Do whatever's necessary, alright?" 

"Please don't rush---"

Owen smiled. "I'll do what I want, elf," he murmured. "You take care of you, I'll take care of things here. And I'll see you soon." 

It took a while before he could end the call. No matter how desperate he was to wake Vegh and announce a need for a change in their plans, his desire to calm Thranduil down and make sure Thranduil was thinking clearly was his priority. 

When they finally parted on whispered words of love and assurances that they'd both be careful, Owen tossed his phone onto the table next to the remnants of his sushi. He stood up and headed to the room where he knew Vegh was sleeping. She would want to be informed of this development, and Owen trusted Thranduil's safety to her. 

As he walked, two more questions were quickly added to the list in his mind: who had been looking for Thranduil? and what did they want?


End file.
